Window 10
by TheDayYouSaidGoodnight
Summary: AU Present-day. Paulita Bonifacio, a Filipina, has been denied a visa for 5 times already. Taking her chances on Valentine's Day, her hopes are almost crushed by a series of mishaps. But, when she meets the dashing consular officer, what surprises await?


I got the idea for this story a while ago and it's a very late Valentine's Day tribute. I was in the U.S. Embassy in Manila, waiting for the 7:15 appointments to be called. I was thinking, what if Alfred was the consular officer. I bet that he'd be giving visas happily.

The plot bunny attacked and I must be its servant now. Enjoy! This is dedicated to all Filipinos, especially those applying for visas. By the way, I'm using the new style of application. This story is supposed to be a one-shot, but it will depend on you guys, though, if you want it to be longer.

Disclaimer: Just think how wonderful it would be if I owned Hetalia. I only own Paulita (whom I carried over from "The Tourist"). I also don't own any brands I mention. I am also not stereotyping consuls.

* * *

_This day couldn't get any worse._

It isn't always safe to assume, but with the situation that Paulita del Pilar-Bonifacio was stuck in, anyone present in the waiting area of the embassy would have agreed with her.

Things went smoothly when she woke up that morning. She put on a black-and-white striped dress which brought out the light tan of her skin. Over the dress, she wore a tailored black jacket with studded buttons. Normally, she wouldn't wear high heels and sparkling earrings, but today, she wanted to impress the consular officers.

Her eyebrows maintained a high arch. Her warm brown eyes were dusted with eyeshadow and her lips were tinted a light red. She also let her inky curls to cascade down her shoulders. She left the house with all her documents secure in an envelope. She never expected madness to come her way.

Paulita hailed a cab, hoping that the driver would get there in time. It didn't help, though, that some lewd French national tried to flirt with her as he crossed the street. He almost got hit by the cab because of his lechery. He then proceeded to holler French curses at the driver and look at Paulita with a strange twinkle in his eyes.

Thankfully, a policeman intervened and had the Frenchman charged for 'acts of lasciviousness'. Paulita was forever grateful to the judiciary of her country. Perverts got punished and served a few days in the station.

"_Pasensya na po, Ma'am. May _record_ 'yang lalaking 'yan sa istasyon namin. May mga kabastusan pa po ba siyang ginawa sa inyo_[1]?" the kind, middle-aged officer asked, scratching his head.

"_Ah, wala na, Manong. Sige po, kailangan ko na pong umalis. May _interview _ako sa _US Embassy[2]." Paulita said with an uneasy smile. Her watch was warning her of impending doom.

"Okay_, _miss. Good luck. Happy Valentine's Day!" the policeman left, escorting the Frenchman to the station.

Paulita sighed. She did not need to be reminded of that holiday. Last year, on the very same day, she discovered that her boyfriend had been cheating on her with a half-Filipino, half-French model. It was painful, but she tried to move on. She chose this day for the interview because she did not want to see her sappy employees giving each other chocolates, flowers and having public displays of affection while she held meetings.

She especially didn't want her employees asking, "_Sinong ka_-date_ niyo mamaya, Ma'am_[3]_?_"

The cab driver was a bit oblivious, and beat the red light. They were stopped by a traffic aide. It seemed that the driver and the aide were fighting intensely. In a fit of rage, Paulita went out of the cab, threw 300 pesos (far too much than what the taximeter specified) on the seat, muttering something about corrupt policemen, perverted Frenchmen and idiotic drivers.

She decided to walk from Luneta Park to the Embassy. She accidentally tripped, almost destroying the heels of her shoes and almost creating a tear in her dress. Her documents splayed out on the pavement. People stared at her with raised eyebrows.

Embarrassed, she stood up as quickly as possible and collected the papers.

She arrived at the gates of the embassy and passed the security check without fail. She surrendered her phone to a guard. She waited in the pavilion, sitting on a yellow bench and waiting for an employee to call her for the fingerprinting. There were not too many applicants that morning; silence reigned in the pavilion.

She remembered the five times that she was denied a visa. On the first time, it was a consul with white hair and red eyes, who said that she "wasn't awesome enough" to get a visa. Paulita almost released a string of curse words at the arrogant man who claimed that he was Prussian, not German.

On the second time, it was less painful. The consul was a Chinese man who said, "We appreciate your coming here, but it seems that the visa isn't meant for you, aru." He quickly added, "You can always apply again in 6 months. Here, I hope this will ease the pain, aru." From the hole in the window, the Chinese man put a piece of chocolate and a small Hello Kitty keychain on top of her passport.

On the third time, she was greeted by a British man who obviously hated his job and just denied everyone. His language would have made Paulita cry. "Bloody wankers, all of you. What do you want to do in that country, anyway? It's just full of nitwits and you're just desperate gits. NEXT!" Paulita found out six months later that he was fired.

On the fourth time, she almost thought that she would be granted a tourist visa. The blonde, blue-eyed French consul was looking at her dreamily. "_Mon cher_, you're just too lovely. That's why I won't grant you a visa. If you go to the States, you might find yourself with a man who can't read the atmosphere. Besides, I'm much better than any of them. Also, you have not established your economic, social and family ties. Sorry, _mon petit lapin_."

The fifth time was most traumatic to her. She was greeted by a consul wearing a thick jacket and a knit pink scarf. _Who wears a scarf…in the Philippine heat? _He said, "Good morning. You want to get a tourist visa, _da_?" She nodded slowly. His smile was unnatural. He took out a lead pipe and set it near her passport. _WAS THAT BLOOD?_ "Why would you go to America anyway? Everyone will become with Mother Russia. Sounds good, _da_?" he didn't seem to be talking to her.

He then faced her, "Would _you_ want to become one with me?" Paulita trembled in her shoes. "I'm sorry, sir, but I do not want to be hurt again." The Russian seemed to soften as he picked up his lead pipe. "Who hurt my little girl? Should we bash his head and blow his brain out, _da_?" "No, please. Don't." After that, the Russian did not give her a visa, still citing the economic, social and family ties reason.

If she was denied again, it would be the sixth. She sighed, praying to God and Saint Jude, the patron of desperate cases, to help her out with the ordeal.

An employee called her row to go and have their fingerprints scanned. While she walked to the cold waiting area, the heel of her left shoe broke. It dangled dangerously, hanging for dear life. Paulita just decided to keep the heel compressed. She walked awkwardly.

"Miss, _kung sira rin naman pala ang sapatos niyo, sana 'di niyo na sinuot. Nagpaa na lang sana kayo_[4]_._" Paulita wanted to report the employee for rudeness but she was too tired to deal with a rude man. Thankfully, the officer at the fingerprinting station was very kind.

She was a Hungarian, with flowing brown locks and dazzling green eyes. She wore a flower in her hair and gave Paulita a soft smile. "Name and birth date, please." She said, smiling. "Paulita Isabel del Pilar Bonifacio. June 12, 1984."

"Please put the four fingers of your left hand on the scanning machine. Press down. Good. Other hand…press down a little more. Good. Both thumbs now…great! Here you go. Good luck." The Hungarian officer slipped her passport and a number into the hole. Paulita watched as a handsome Austrian brunette with a stubborn curl went behind the Hungarian, carrying a grand bouquet of pink lilies and white roses. The man looked and dressed like a prince from the storybooks she read in her youth.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Elizaveta." The Hungarian's green eyes widened. "Roddy, you're so sweet! I don't know why you spoil me! Ah, I'm sorry, Miss Bonifacio. This is Roderich Edelstein, my husband. Now, Miss, you may use sanitizer from that dispenser."

"Thank you." Paulita said, feeling a bit jealous. "You seem blue, Miss Bonifacio. Have you been scorned by oafs?" the Austrian asked. "Well, yes." "Don't worry, dear. Look at you, you're so pretty! I almost thought that you had a date later. You know, he might just be here." Elizaveta winked. "Thanks." Paulita blushed as she went back to the Embassy Pavilion.

A good 20 minutes later, a speaker boomed in the Pavilion. "Numbers 2141-2160, please proceed to the interviewing area." Paulita looked at the number attached to her application: 2143. She begrudgingly stood up, making sure that her heel wouldn't crack and went to the cold waiting area.

Her seat was just across Window 10. She saw the window. It was vacant but she could make out a fuzzy bomber jacket draped on the back of the swivel chair. There was also a cup of Starbucks, a venti to be exact. There was also three Big Macs on the table. Paulita knew that the consul would in fact be an American, and he would most probably be obese. _Three Big Macs? I can't even finish one!_

Since she thought that the consular officer in Window 10 wouldn't come back, she decided just to watch the board, waiting for her number and window to appear. Suddenly, a number appeared, and it said Window 10.

A timid young Filipino went to Window 10. His hands were shaking and he seemed to almost drop his documents. He then obstructed Paulita's view of the consular officer, who had just sat down and greeted the young man with an award-winning grin.

Paulita watched the board again. The latest number to come up was 2134. It wouldn't be too long before her number was called. "I wish that I'll be interviewed in Window 10." The woman sitting beside her said. "Why is that?" Paulita asked. "They tell me that he just approves and approves…and, they tell me that he's very charming." The woman said.

"Three Big Macs and a venti on your table count as charming?" Paulita rolled her eyes and went to the bathroom to do some business and to check on her make-up. When she went out, she heard a young man cheering. She saw that it was the young man who was interviewed in Window 10. The consular officer was away, only leaving his bomber jacket.

The young man suddenly grabbed Paulita. "He gave me a visa! Thank you, Lord! This was my tenth time to apply already! _Ang bait niya_[5]! He even gave me one of his Big Macs when I told him that I didn't eat breakfast yet." Paulita could see pure joy in the man's eyes as he cheered around and sauntered off to leave the building. "Congratulations." She said, watching the triumphant man leave.

She sat down again, hoping that she would be assigned to a nice consular officer. She glanced again at Window 10. Still, no one was there. Suddenly, the board gave off a sound and displayed her number. _2143 10._

Paulita's heart hammered in her chest. This was it. She walked to Window 10, waiting for the officer to return. She was surprised to also see an elegant bouquet of red roses on the table. Maybe the man was reserving them for a date.

Paulita froze when she heard footsteps nearing the window. She lifted her eyes to see a man who was far too young to be a consul. _Speak for yourself. You're far too young to be an assistant brand manager_. The man walked with an unbreakable aura of confidence.

His hair looked like molten gold, feathery and downy, except for a single strand that defied gravity. His lightly-tanned face was clear and ruddy. He also wore eyeglasses which magnified his wide, blue eyes. They were like the color of the sky on a clear Manila morning.

His lips were full and red, to the point of being pouty. _He looks nowhere near thirty years old. He's like a kid! He's so cute—wait, what?_ As he came nearer, Paulita noted that he looked painfully casual. He was wearing a short-sleeved "I (heart) NY" t-shirt that clung to his lean, toned body. He was wearing dark jeans that fit his hips snugly. It was secured by a brown belt. Paulita felt like a pervert as she looked at him. _And to say that he can eat three Big Macs and a venti in one sitting._

The man sat down. "Howdy, miss. I'm Alfred F. Jones and I'm your consul for today." _He was the consul? Oh, God. _The man's blue gaze bore into her, as well as that dazzling grin. "Good morning, sir." She slipped her passport and documents in the hole of the glass window, watching him as he ran a hand through his hair. He used his barcode reader to input the information.

"Paulita Isabel del Pilar Bonifacio…a pretty name for a very pretty miss. So, why would you like to visit our awesome country?" he asked, typing away without looking away from her. Paulita was flushing red, but she tried to suppress it.

"I want to spend some time alone. I'd like to see the sights, learn about your history and your people. I see that freedom is the core of the American spirit and we Filipinos share it too. I guess I'd feel that if I ever I'd go there. Also, I have this old aunt who could die any moment now. I'd like to see her again. She was very nice to me." Paulita said. "So, where will you go if ever you get a visa?" he asked.

"I'd go to New York, Manhattan, especially. I'd also go to Los Angeles and watch a Lakers game. I'd probably watch the shows in Vegas, but I won't get married there. I'll go to Washington D.C. and see the monuments." "Hmm…a Lakers game? I have an extra ticket reservation for the Playoffs. I don't know what to do with it, though." He gave her a wink. _I think I died a little._

"Anyway, will you be accompanied by anyone on this trip? Who will pay for it? Where will you stay?" "No, I'll just go on my own. I'll pay for everything. I'll stay in a hotel, I guess." Paulita said. She took out the bank passbooks and slipped them in the hole.

"So, what do you do for a living here? How much do you earn in a month?" Alfred asked. "I'm the assistant brand manager for that company. I earn around 60,000 pesos a month." She answered, holding out a business card. "Okay." Alfred said, going through the passbooks and returning them to her.

Alfred gave a sigh. "You know, I hate these boring questions. I'd like to know more about you as a person rather than your bank account or your job. Have you had breakfast?" "Uhm, yes."

"Okay. So, it says here that you've been denied five times before. Sorry for my stuffy colleagues. Who was the last one who interviewed you?" "The Russian guy with a pink scarf…he even took out his pipe and threatened to blow the brains out of my ex-boyfriend—oops." Paulita thought that personal details shouldn't be included.

"That commie bastard? I'll give him a beating later on, okay? Anyway, if you don't mind, tell me more about this boyfriend of yours. What did he do to merit Ivan's weird displays of compassion?" Alfred said, leaning on the table with a hand under his chin.

Paulita didn't want to spill secrets, but they probably wouldn't see each other again anyway. Besides, she had drowned into the consul's blue eyes. He was just too gorgeous.

"He cheated on me last Valentine's Day…with a half-French model and this morning, some French guy tried to flirt with me and the cab driver almost hit him. Thankfully, the policeman arrested the guy and not the driver." Paulita said.

"Oh, I have to agree with Ivan on this one, though. Don't worry; don't go chasing men as well. They're going to be the one to chase you." Again, he winked and gave her a grin. _What the hell, Paulita? Why does he have…this…this…effect on you_?

"I think I've spilled more than I should. I'd like to know more about you, Mr. Jones. Well, I guess you have a girlfriend, wife, whatever." His eyes were downcast and his lips gave a sad smile. _That sad smile doesn't suit him. He looks better with a real, happy smile._ He looked like a kicked puppy. "No, I don't. The last one I had was actually a hired gun who tried to kill me. But that doesn't change the fact that I want to love again."

"I'm sorry I brought it up. Now, you're probably going to deny me a visa again like everyone else—" she stopped when she felt a hand clasp hers from the hole in the window. "Don't be. It was just fair. I'm perfectly fine." She didn't want him to let go. His hand was warm, radiating its heat throughout her arm. He let go, with a tinge of red on his cheeks. There was a genuine smile on his face once more.

"So, I'll be straight. Are you planning to be an immigrant to the States any time soon?" Alfred asked. "No. I'm happy here in the Philippines. I don't care if the salary's higher. I'd rather be a servant of my country than a slave of another." Paulita said.

"Good, 'cause I'd rather be a beggar in the States than a big-shot anywhere else." Alfred said. "You know, I'm going back to the States in April. I'm going to be transferred to the Philippine Embassy for some reason."

"You'll get to know more Filipinos that way. I guess it helps that you've been really friendly and warm, unlike the other officers here. It's very Filipino to be friendly and warm, especially to visitors." Paulita said. She gave a yelp when her heel suddenly gave away. "Ouch."

"Hey, are you okay?" "Yes. The heel just broke." The moment she said that, she found a tube of Mighty Bond in the hole. "Thank you." "Heroes are always prepared."

She was able to temporarily relieve the problem and gave back the tube of Mighty Bond. Alfred started typing a few things and he mulled over the matter. After a few minutes, he turned to Paulita and smiled.

"Congratulations, Paulita. Your visa has been approved. I guess I'll be taking this," he gestured to the passport, "It will be delivered to your house soon enough. Here's the payment slip. By the way, we don't renew visas anymore. So, if it gets expired, you have to apply again."

Paulita didn't notice that her eyes were watery already. "Thank you…oh my God. Thank you, Mr. Jones. You're too kind." "I'm the hero, Paulita. Count on me." He slipped a piece of tissue, the payment slip and a piece of paper in the window hole.

"Wait for me, alright. I'll be out there in a jiff." "WHAT?" Paulita found the chair empty. When she looked behind her, she saw Alfred F. Jones, walking in Converse sneakers (and looking hopelessly dashing anyway). He held out the bouquet of roses which once sat on his desk. People started cheering in the background. Other consuls went out to witness this madness.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" he said.

"Finally, some _amour_!" "Belt up, you wanker!" "You will all become one with me, da?" "Awww, this is so sweet, aru!"

Paulita looked like a tomato. "Alfred F. Jones, you insufferable man! I almost ran over a Frenchman, got into a fight with a traffic aide, tripped on the pavement, broke the heel of my shoe, got insulted by an employee…oh, what the hell." She took the bouquet, looking away. "Happy Valentine's Day too."

"So, are you free tonight?" he asked, a confident grin plastered on his face. "Uhm, yes." "Now, make sure you look just as gorgeous as you are now. I attached my number to your payment slip. I'll pick you up at 7. I still have your confirmation form, so I'll know where to find you." He said.

_Good God. What have I gotten myself into?_

"Alright. I'll go with you...but I want to see you in…more formal clothing. So, is this a…a…date?" "Definitely. See ya later. I still have some applicants to interview." Paulita's breath hitched in her throat. When the young consul started walking away, she said, "Wait!"

The blonde turned to look at her. She walked up to him, gave him a kiss on the cheek and walked out of the interviewing area as quickly as she could. She didn't see his beet-red face. On her way out, she almost bumped into the American ambassador to the Philippines.

"Good morning, sir. I'm sorry. Mr. Jones is really enthusiastic, isn't he? And—" the man just smiled. "Don't get him wrong, though. The lucky girl who catches his eye is sure to be loved and cared for. Enjoy yourself tonight."

"I trust you, sir." The man nodded and headed off to his office. Paulita, on the other hand, went to the place where she deposited her phone (gadgets are not allowed inside the embassy). "So, Ma'am, approved?" the security guard asked, noting the bouquet.

"Yes." She looked fondly at the bouquet. "Ma'am, _may_ message _po kayo_." The guard gave her the phone. Paulita opened the message.

_Francis (the frog) gave me that bouquet and told me that I'd find love today and that I should give it to someone (as cheesy as it sounds) who'd strike my heart. You did. I'll drive away lewd Frenchmen and creepy Russians. I'll make you happy. I won't hurt you. Love, Alfred_

Paulita couldn't help but smile. She then remembered the Hungarian woman at the fingerprinting window. _How many times have I smiled today because of him?_ She added him to her contacts and replied:

_You're hopeless, but…who am I kidding? Let's be hopeless together. You're such a ray of sunshine, you know that? See you tonight. Love, Paulita_

Paulita could care less about the people who stared at her as she emerged from the embassy grounds with a bouquet of roses in her arms.

* * *

Translations:

[1]I'm sorry, Ma'am. That man has a record in our station. Has he done any other lewd things to you?

[2]Okay, I need to go. I have an interview in the US Embassy.

[3] Who's your date later, Ma'am?

[4] Miss, if your shoes are broken, you shouldn't have worn them. You should have just gone barefoot.

[5] He's so nice!

I don't know how and when did I learn how to write a corny, sappy fic which involves a visa interview. Anyway, I'd appreciate your comments. Thanks for reading!


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